


I'm holding out for a hero

by tillyenna



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2020 NHL Playoffs Bubble, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Consensual Infidelity, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25769857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillyenna/pseuds/tillyenna
Summary: Like many omegas in the league, Igor had carefully planned his heat for the off season - which is now the time he's spending in the bubble. He's asked if there's an alpha on the team he trusts with it, but he hardly knows any of them - except one of them, the man he's looked up to all his life...Henrik wouldn't balk at helping any of the omega's on the team through their heats if they needed him... except for one... the one that's stealing his job.This is part of our hockey rpf discord shared ABO Playoffs 2020 universe ;)
Relationships: Henrik Lundqvist/Igor Shesterkin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As this is an A/B/O heat fic it contains the usual dubious consent that surrounds heat. So like, there's that. It's a little bit more dubconny even than that (Henrik states throughout the entire fic that he doesn't want to be doing what he's doing. He's lying to himself, but he's also a little bit at war with himself)

As soon as Igor gets back to New York, the trainers have asked to see him, he takes Artemi to translate, he’s pretty sure he knows what this is about, and he’d rather have Artemi by his side than Pasha, and he doesn’t trust his English enough to be able have this conversation alone.

“When is your heat scheduled for?” The trainer asks him, and he’d been expecting the question, there are probably dozens of other Omegas in the league being faced with the same question.

“July,” he confirms, “End week.”

The trainer pulls a face, “We’ll be in Toronto by then,” he confirms, “You’ll have to go through it with one of your teammates, or alone.”

Artemi translates for him, although he’s following just fine, but he wonders if Artemi is starting to feel awkward about being there for such a personal conversation.

Igor lets himself lean into his teammate, as the trainer continues.

“We’ll need to put someone down on your medical form, any of the alphas on team or staff that you’d be happy to assist you.”

“Henrik.” Igor answers, before Artemi can finish the translation.

The trainer nods, and writes it down, before asking “Anyone else?”

Igor shakes his head firmly, there’s no-one else on the team he feels he could trust with this, no-one else he would trust in those moments when heat overcomes him. “Henrik.” He repeats, he can’t remember what the words are to explain there’s no-one else for him.

Artemi’s arm is around him, “One of the others would help,” he says softly, speaking Russian so Igor doesn’t have to work to understand him, “None of them would mind.”

Igor shakes his head, “I couldn’t…” he falters, he’s not even done a full season with the Rangers, he’s barely played more than a dozen games with these boys, they don’t feel like his team yet, but Henrik’s different, Henrik’s the one he’s looked up to his whole life, he’s the exception.

As predicted, it’s not long after they arrive in Toronto that he starts to notice the signs, his clothes feeling uncomfortable, he’s starting to sweat more, and then, when they’re practising on their allotted practise ice, he starts to feel himself cramping.

He manages another twenty minutes of practise before the cramps mean he can’t focus anymore, and the boys get 5 shots in a row past him before Pasha is skating up to him.

“You ok Igoryok?” He asks softly.

Igor shakes his head, “Heat.” He mutters quietly, his usual smile far from his face, “I’ll go to the trainers.”

Pasha nods and skates off to tell Quinny and the other coaches as Igor heads off to the trainers. He has to stop at the edge of the rink, clutching tight to the boards for a minute while a wave of cramps passes through him – he’s always had particularly bad cramps before his heats, which is why he schedules his heat for the summer, where he can curl up at home with a hot water bottle and one of his usual heat partners.

He makes it to the trainer’s room, before tugging off his skates, sitting down on the massage table. “My heat,” he manages to stammer out, “Start now.”

“Ok,” There’s a cool hand on the back of his neck, “We’ll send someone to talk to Henrik.”

\---

It’s Chris who ends up skating over to Henrik, “Shesty’s going into heat.”

Henrik shrugs, “That’s fine,” he’s not sure why Kreids feels the need to tell him, “Georgie and I can handle it.”

“No,” Chris shakes his head, “Remember, he put you down as the one to get him through it.”

Henrik rolls his eyes at him, “And I already said to the trainers that I’m not doing it, they’re well aware that I’m not doing it, they’ll have to go for his second choice.”

“There isn’t a second choice,” Kreids sighs, running a hand through his hair, “It’s you or nothing apparently.”

“Then he’s going to be going through it alone.” Henrik snaps, he feels a little bad, but he has a wife at home, a family, he’s not going to take one of his teammates through a heat, least of all the kid that’s come to steal his job.

“You’re an ass sometimes Hank,” Chris sighs, but heads off to tell the trainers.

He can still smell him when they hit the locker rooms later, it’s faint, but no less arousing, and he has to push it from his mind as he showers and gets dressed. They’ve all been heading back to the hotel for lunch together – there’s nothing to do here but eat, sleep and train. At lunch, he ends up sitting with Mika and Chris as usual, he and Mika are trying to teach Chris some Swedish, but they’re not getting very far.

“I think you’re being an ass too,” Mike tells him as he sits down beside him, “The kid’s only 24, why are you making him do this alone?”

Henrik scowls at him, “I don’t know,” he answers sarcastically, “Maybe my wife? My family?” He’s not one of those guys that has ‘Road Agreements’ and he actually takes his marriage vows seriously.

“Therese wouldn’t mind,” Marc Staal sits down on the other side of him, “I think you’re letting your fear of him stop you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Henrik stares resolutely down at his lunch, he doesn’t want to deal with this, doesn’t want to explain it. They don’t understand what it’s like, to be nearing the end of his career, to have not one, but two young superstars coming for his title and his job. “But I don’t see why it should fall to me to get some rookie through his heat – he should have planned it better.”

“He did.” Mika glares at him, “We all did, we all plan our heats for the summer break, like good responsible hockey players – it’s not our fault that Bettman has decided we can play hockey when we’re all usually on a break.”

“Bet he didn’t even think about it,” Chris sighs in sympathy, “Fucking patriarchy.”

“Fuck the patriarchy.” Mika agrees, before turning his attention back to Henrik, “The patriarchy which you are currently supporting, by refusing to help Shesty.”

“It’s not my job,” Henrik mutters, he starts tucking into his lunch, but it tastes of cardboard.

“Just take him one of your shirts or something,” Marc suggests, “It’s better than nothing.”

Henrik raises a questioning eyebrow to Mika, the only omega at the table.

“It’s like putting a bandaid on an amputated limb, but sure, yeah, it’ll help.” Mika answers, not bothering to hide the distain in his voice, “I still think you’re being unreasonable.”

“I’m unreasonable?” Henrik grabs his plate, “I’m unreasonable for wanting to be able to chose who I do or do not have sex with?” He starts walking away, planning to eat alone in his room, the last thing he needs right now is the judgement of his friends.

“Hank,” Marcs hand is on his arm, his presence calming as always, “Mika’s due on, so yeah he’s being a bit touchy about this.”

Henrik groans, because honestly, the idea of every omega on their team going into heat is exhausting, but at least Chris will get Mika through his.

“Yes it’s your choice,” Marc’s guiding him back to the table, “None of us are saying that if you really don’t want to have sex with him then you should do it anyway, but we’re questioning your reasons.”

Henrik shrugs, “And my happy marriage isn’t reason enough.”

“Not when your wife asked me if there were any Omegas on the team who might need your care during this time?”

Henrik bites his lip, that’s exactly like Therese, she may be a beta, but she’s always thinking about others. “I don’t like him.” He confesses quietly, “Him or Georgie.” Georgie’s easier, he’s known him for longer, and frankly, he isn’t as good, he’s a reliable back up, which is what Henrik needs. Igor on the other hand is not a back up goalie, he’s a starter and they all know it.

“We’re not asking you to like him,” Chris lets out a little chuckle, “Just get him through the next couple of days.”

“And if you won’t do that,” Mika’s tone is still harsh, but he at least sounds like he’s trying to temper himself now, “Then yeah, taking him stuff that smells of you, having it be you that delivers his food, at least he’ll feel like an Alpha is caring for him.”

“I’ll think on it.” Henrik promises, it’s the best he can do.

“You don’t understand,” Mika presses, he’s not letting this go, not letting Henrik shrug this off, “It’ll hurt, being on his own, physically hurt.” He takes in the carefully schooled blank expression on Henrik’s face. “And he’ll come out of it thinking that we all hate him.”

Henrik shrugs, “Or just that I hate him.” He’s fine with that prospect, that the kid thinks that he hates him, it’s not worlds away from the truth anyway.

“No,” Mika sighs and shakes his head, “I don’t know why they don’t teach this to you guys in school.”

They’d always split Alphas, Betas and Omegas for sex education in school, and honestly, Henrik didn’t see the problem with it, it avoided a lot of embarrassment.

“During heat,” Mika continues, ignoring the fact that Henrik doesn’t appear to be paying him attention. “Our hormones go off the charts, go wild and crazy, and it makes you think and feel things you wouldn’t otherwise. Aside from the pain, he’ll also be panicking, without an Alpha to make him feel safe, he could spend the whole thing in a massive panic attack. It messes with your head Henrik.”

“It’s still not my problem.” Henrik insists.

“Just take this,” Mika hands him a room key, “It’s the spare key to his room, and if you have, like an ounce of decency Henke – and I think you do, think about helping him out with this.”

It runs through his mind, later that night, as he’s trying to get to sleep – the images of Igor clutching onto the boards, his knuckles white as he tried to steady himself. He knew it was perfectly possible to go through a heat alone, but he’d always thought that they chose to have partners because they were, well, sluts. That’s what he’d been taught, growing up, that an Omega going through heat would want to fuck as much as possible, so they sought out Alphas so they didn’t have to get themselves off, but from what Mika had been saying, it’s so much more than that.

Eventually, he pulls a sweatshirt over his head, and grabs a second jumper from his dirty laundry pile, before padding down the corridor to where Igor’s room is.

He knocks a couple of times, but there’s no response, so he slides the room key out of his pocket and into the lock, stepping quietly inside, closing the door behind him.

It’s dark, but he can smell Igor clearer now than the remnants of his scent had been in the locker room, he tries to take a breath to steady himself, but that just sends the enticing scent further into his lungs. He grits his teeth, ignores his rapidly hardening cock, reminds himself who exactly it is he’s there to see, and steps further into the room.

Igor doesn’t seem to have noticed him, whether that’s because his own scent is covering the entire room, blocking anything else out, or whether it’s because he’s far enough in his heat that the scent of an alpha entering the room is nothing short of welcome. He’s lying on the bed, atop the covers, stark naked, one hand on his cock, the other twisted around, two fingers thrusting roughly in and out of his own ass. He’s soaked to the wrist with his own slick, and the whimpers that come out of his mouth make it sound like he’s in pain.

Henrik can’t do anything, he’s glued to the spot at the sight of the young man in front of him, writhing on the bed, in a world of his own, sweat plastering his hair to his brow, his body wracked with spasms as he searches for yet another release. He’s keening, and begging in Russian, although Henrik doesn’t know enough Russian to make out any words other than “please” and “Alpha” which is the same in all languages anyway.

He wants to speak, wants to open his mouth to let the young man know he’s there, but as he does, he finds his mouth is dry and no words are forthcoming. He almost turns on his heel, heads back out of Igor’s room and back to his own, but Mika’s words are in the back of his mind, and Igor looks like he’s been chasing an orgasm that will never come for hours. He swallows once, dryly, and then forces himself to say “Come for me.”

At the sudden words, Igor’s eyes fly open, and he screams, thick spurts of come coating his belly, tears leaking out the corner of his eyes as he strokes himself through the aftershocks.

Henrik heads straight to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face before wetting a washcloth to take back to Igor – he’s sure it’s pointless to clean up an omega in heat, but there’s something inside him telling him to take care of this boy, and whilst that might be the very reason he hadn’t wanted to be in the room with him at all, he can’t help but acquiesce to those desires.

As he heads back out to Igor, the young man is staring at him, eyes wide, and he murmurs something in Russian, before translating it, “You here.”

Henrik shrugs, and throws him the sweatshirt, the reason he’d come in the first place, “I thought this might help.”

Igor whimpers, burying his face in it, inhaling deeply. “Thank you.” He mutters quietly, drawing his knees up to his chest, hugging himself, “It help.”

Henrik frowns, he wants to turn and walk away, but Igor looks so small, so defenceless in that moment that he forgets exactly who he is, and sees only a young, scared omega in front of him. “Would a hug also help?”

Igor’s eyes snap up to him, “You not want.” He says, reminding them both that Henrik had turned him down.

Henrik shrugs again, “I’m here now.” Is all he offers, he’s not sure yet how much he can offer, how much of himself he can surrender, but this much, he knows he can. He moves slowly to the bed, like he’s approaching some feral wild animal, but Igor stays perfectly still, knees tucked into his chest.

Henrik sits down on the bed beside him, and wraps an arm around Igor’s shoulders, “Here,” he holds out the washcloth with his other hand, “Let me.”

Slowly, tentatively, Igor stretches his legs out again, letting Henrik run the wash cloth over his torso and his legs, avoiding his already hard again cock. When Henrik has carelessly thrown the cloth on the floor, Igor lets him manhandle him into his side, and then, cautiously, he moves his face towards the older man’s neck. “I can?” he asks, he can’t remember how to ask, but he knows he needs to.

Henrik gives a soft chuckle, “Go on kid,” he tilts his head to the side, allowing Igor better access to his neck, and slides down into the bed beside him, wrapping both arms around him as Igor buries his face in his neck.

Henrik smells like nothing else, like no-one else. He smells like hockey, and success and everything that Igor’s ever dreamed of. He loses himself for a moment, overcome with desire, and it’s only when he feels the groan caught in Henrik’s throat that he realises he’s been trailing his tongue and lips up and down the older man’s neck, and thrusting his cock against his thigh.

“You really need this huh?” Henrik chuckles softly, carding a hand through Igor’s hair.

“Please,” Igor can’t bring himself to look at him, “Alpha, please.”

“I won’t knot you,” Henrik warns.

Igor whines, but continues rutting against the older man’s muscular thigh, “Please,” he mutters, hoping that Henrik can tell from his desperate pleas that he’ll take any crumb of affection he’s offered, any scrap that Henrik is willing to part with.

“Lie back,” Henrik lets his hands trail down the younger man’s torso, “I’ve got you.”

Sliding two fingers inside Igor is easy, he’s wet and open already, the slick running down the inside of his legs as he spreads them as far apart as he can. Henrik can’t stop himself, the scent is too enticing, so he leans down, and licks a little off Igor’s sweat soaked skin, and then, letting his instincts take over for a moment, he sinks his teeth into the meat of the young man’s ass.

Igor moans and whimpers below him, but Henrik can feel his heartbeat speeding up, this young fool who thinks he can swan over to America and steal Henrik’s job is nothing but a quivering mess in front of him, and he wants to devour him.

He thrusts a third finger in roughly, and then, with a sudden burst of inspiration, licks at Igor’s rim, tasting his slick fresh from the source.

“Alpha,” Igor is begging shamelessly now, “Alpha please.”

Henrik grins up at him, predatorial and full of teeth, he leans forward to run his incisors lightly over the delicate skin of Igor’s cock, causing a scream, and then, to both of their surprise, Igor coming hard into Henrik’s mouth.

It’s better tasting than Alpha come, but that doesn’t mean Henrik wants to swallow it, he spits it into a pool on Igor’s belly before crawling up over him, until they’re face to face. Igor turns his head away, trying desperately to hide his face in his arm or the pillow, but Henrik reaches out with one hand and grabs his jaw.

“Look at me.” He orders.

For a moment, Igor lies there, shaking both with fear and with the aftershocks of his orgasm, Henrik’s steely blue eyes locking his in a gaze that is impossible to hold, but impossible to look away from.

“I want to destroy you.” Henrik mutters, mostly to himself, “I want to make you cry.”

Igor whimpers, and then, still maintaining the eye contact that Henrik is forcing upon him, tilts his head to one side, baring the side of his neck.

Henrik growls, and dives, sinking his teeth into the meat of Igor’s shoulder, biting hard enough to draw blood and then licking it slowly as it leaks out of his skin. “Fuck,” he swears softly, and then, nudging Igor’s thighs further apart slides in between them. He tells himself he’s not going to do it, even as the head of his cock is pressing against Igor’s entrance. He tells himself it’s Igor’s fault for being so loose and so open. He tells himself he doesn’t really want this, but as he slides home they both moan, perfectly in sync with each other and he bends down to bury his teeth in Igor’s skin once more.

“Please Alpha,” Igor wraps his arms around Henrik’s neck, there’s nothing left to do at this point but hold on and hope, “Yours.”

Henrik lets out a chuckle around a mouthful of flesh, “Mine,” he growls, thrusting in roughly. He grabs onto Igor’s hips, to give himself better leverage, and then he starts up on a punishing pace.

Igor’s heat-swollen cock still hasn’t softened, and it rubs against their bellies, the pool of come that Henrik had spat over him slicking him a little. It would be painful, except he can’t focus on anything except the blossoming pain of Henrik’s teeth in him and then relentless pressure of the head of his cock brushing up against his prostate time and time again. “Alpha,” he whines piteously.

Henrik grins, and loosens his teeth on Igor’s shoulder, moving them to his jawline. He doesn’t care that everyone will be able to see it, he wants everyone to be able to see it. Wants everyone to be able to see that Igor might be younger, and faster, and outperforming Henrik at every game, but he’s weak, and he needs Henrik.

Henrik doesn’t even notice that his knot has begun to swell until it’s pressing against Igor’s entrance. He’s too far gone now, he knows what he needs, and he meets no resistance as he pushes further inside, feeling Igor’s wet hole clutching at his swollen knot. “Good boy,” he murmurs softly in Igor’s ear, grazing his earlobe with his teeth, carding his hands through his hair, “Lie there and take it.”

Igor whimpers, but wraps his legs around Henrik, pulling him in closer.

“Slut,” Henrik laughs, but there’s no real malice behind it.

It’s clearly a word that Igor recognises however, because he nods, panting, “Dah, yes.” He grins up at Henrik, “Slut.” And then, “More Alpha, please.”

Henrik smirks at him, bending his legs so he can get a better angle, hammering his knot further and further into Igor until they’re both riding the crest, so close to the edge.

“What do you need?” He asks.

Igor stares blankly up at him, “Please, Henka.”

The Russian diminutive of his name brings Henrik one step closer to the edge, and in a split second decision, he leans down, and his teeth close around Igor’s neck, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to feel his pulse against his tongue.

It’s Henrik’s name on his tongue as Igor comes, and that’s all it takes to push Henrik over the edge, his knot locking him inside Igor’s fluttering pulsating hole.

“Sötnos” Henrik mutters against his neck, collapsing on top of him.

Igor lets out a slow breath, and closes his eyes, the sweet moment of relief that Henrik’s knot brings him from the throws of his heat. It should be suffocating, having Henrik’s whole weight on top of him, but it’s not, it’s comforting, and Igor finds his consciousness slipping away, exhaustion from his heat overtaking him.

When Igor comes too, Henrik is stroking his hair, looking down at him with some unplaceable emotion on his face, it’s not the animalistic desire from before, but it certainly isn’t fond either.

“Why me?” Henrik asks eventually, his voice soft and a little cracked from the exertion, “You said no-one else but me, but why me?”

Igor shrugs, “Not know alphas on team,” he explains, “Not trust.”

“You don’t know me either,” Henrik points out softly, “You shouldn’t trust me.”

Igor shrugs, “I know you.” He insists, “Am have picture…” he frowns, “How say, on wall?”

That causes Henrik’s brows to shoot up, “You know me because you have a poster of me on the wall?”

Igor shrugs again, “And…” he mutters the word in Russian, before remembering it in English, “Jersey also,” he looks up at Henrik, “I learn you, many years, read on internet,” he blushes a little, “You best goalie in world. I know you.”

“Not anymore,” Henrik mutters with a sad sigh.

A frown flickers across Igor’s face, “Best in world.” He repeats insistently, “Is dream, come to America, play second to best goalie in world.” He flushes a slightly darker crimson, “Also dream this.” He strokes a finger down Henrik’s chest, “When young, dream of this.”

Henrik lets out a surprised chuckle, “So you trust me, because I was the first alpha you ever had a crush on?”

Igor nods, and grins, “And because best goalie in world.”

“If I were the best goalie in the world,” Henrik counters, “You wouldn’t be stealing my starts.” It’s harsh, because neither of them get to decide who’s starting in the net, but it’s how he feels regardless.

“Not steal your job,” Igor whines, burying his face in Henrik’s neck, “Not want your job.” He grins up at him, “Want Sasha’s job.”

That startles a laugh out of Henrik, “Really?”

Igor nods, “Fuck Sasha, he go back Finland.” He wraps his arms around Henrik’s torso, “I stay here, with you, warm your bench.”

“You’re a little bit too good for that min skatt,” Henrik lets his hands card through Igor’s hair.

“Nyet,” Igor pouts at him, “Not too good for you.”

Henrik can’t help himself, he leans forward, and captures Igor’s lips in a gentle kiss. “Sweet boy,” he murmurs in English, “Coming here, stealing all of their hearts away from me.”

Igor stretches to steal a kiss, “I give back,” he promises, “I give mine.” He offers with a grin.

Henrik shakes his head, pulling him close, “Come here you.” He whispers, his arms around Igor, manhandling him so Igor is lying on his chest. “For now, you give me this, ok?”

“I give you all.” Igor mutters sleepily, letting Henrik’s heartbeat sooth him into sleep.

Henrik lies there for a moment, watching the young man sleep, his hand smoothing over Igor’s hair. He might not be ready to give up his starting position just yet, not if he has anything to say about it, but when he does, he might not feel so bad about giving it to this sweet boy, to his sweet boy.


	2. Moodboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with added moodboard

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [@princesstillyenna](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/princesstillyenna)


End file.
